Clear Skies and Bright Stars
by StarSpray
Summary: "Come eat your supper, Eluréd," said Nellas. "Afterward we'll build a bonfire on the hillside, and I'll teach you how they used to dance at Cuiviénen."


_Written for the December 2019 Seasons Greetings SWG challenge_

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As winter stretched on with pale days and long dark nights, as the forest slumbered around them with barren branches and little movement from its animals, Eluréd wondered if he would always feel sick to his stomach and sad at this time of year. It would be one whole year since the Fëanorians had come just after the Midwinter celebrations to Doriath. One year since he and Elurín had only narrowly and by sheer luck avoided freezing to death in the forest, thanks to Nellas. One year without their parents, or baby Elwing following them around, or anything familiar. Nellas was kind and fun and had been teaching them so much, but she was not their mother, and sometimes Eluréd missed Nimloth so much that it hurt. Elurín said it was best to try not to think about it.

At least they did not have to worry about sleeping out in the snow anymore. The funny man who said that Elves called him Iarwain Ben-adar but who would not tell them what he called himself (if indeed he called himself anything) had brought them back that summer to his house atop a grassy hill, in sight of the river as it fell over a small series of falls, and on the other side of a long set of downs that Nellas said contained barrows, graves of Men who had settled there for a time before, and perhaps just after, the first Edain had crossed the Ered Luin into Beleriand. Eluréd was curious about them, but both he and Elurín agreed that they were not curious enough to go out into the cold to explore, even if Nellas had not forbidden it.

And it was very cold. There was no snow on the ground yet, but whenever they went outside the ground itself crunched beneath their feet. Iarwain had given them warm clothes and sturdy boots for the winter, though when Elurín asked where he had gotten them he just laughed. The boots were bright red, as Iarwain's were yellow, and their clothes were similarly brightly colored—spots of summer green and blue and gold in the barren winter wood, Iarwain had said, laughing and applauding in delight when they had first tried them on.

The best part about the cold weather was that the river had frozen. It was not completely solid; Eluréd had pressed his ear to the ice and could hear the water still flowing beneath it. But the layer was thick and more than strong enough to hold two small boys, and he and Elurín had spent the day racing each other up and down it, running and then sliding as far and as fast as they could. They were red-faced and runny-nosed and out of breath by the time Nellas called them home with the promise of warm soup and fresh bread. "Did you know that tonight is Midwinter night?" she asked. "The longest night of the year. And perhaps the darkest, this year," she added, with a glance out of the window at the sky, which had been covered with heavy clouds all day that threatened snow, though none yet had fallen.

"Not the darkest!" Iarwain announced, coming out of the kitchen with a tray of fresh-cut bread and a pat of yellow butter. "The sun will be a-setting soon, and the clouds will be a-parting to let the stars peep through!"

"They don't look like they're going to part," said Eluréd.

"Just you wait, little master," said Iarwain with a wink, before stomping back out of the house in his big yellow boots. After a few minutes he started to sing. It was not like his usual _ring a dong dillo_ or _hey dol! merry dol!_ It was no less joyful, but of a deeper sort, without peals of laughter interrupting the stanzas. Eluréd picked up a piece of bread, so warm that the butter melted into it, and went to the window to watch Iarwain as he stood on the hillside with his arms outstretched. The song was very very old, and Eluréd thought he could feel the words sinking into him, right down to his bones. The words were either nonsense or a language older than old, from a time before the Sun or the Moon. Maybe from even before the Elves first awoke. And as the song went on, the clouds began to break apart, like a wind had come up out of the west to scatter them, revealing the rosy pink of sunset in the west, and the first stars of twilight.

"Come eat your supper, Eluréd," said Nellas. "Afterward we'll build a bonfire on the hillside, and I'll teach you how they used to dance at Cuiviénen."

"You weren't _at_ Cuiviénen," said Eluréd as he slid into his seat. "You said you were born with the Sun!"

"And so I was," Nellas said, laughing. "But my grandmother was born by the Waters, and she taught my mother the old dances and songs, and my mother taught me. And now I am going to teach you. But you have to eat first and warm yourselves up, because even with the bonfire it will be very cold."

"It wasn't cold in Menegroth," said Elurín in a low voice as he picked up his spoon.

Nellas ran her fingers through his hair. "I know," she said gently. "This time of year will always carry grief, but there can be joy as well. In fact, I think Iarwain will insist on it."

Once they had eaten to Nellas' satisfaction, Eluréd and Elurín bundled up again and followed her outside, where Iarwain was already coaxing kindling to bright dancing flame. "See, little masters?" he said, straightening and stretching his hands up to the sky. "Clear skies and bright stars!"

Eluréd didn't think he had ever seen so many stars. Some of them he recognized—the Sickle hung bright in the north, and the Swordsman with his shining belt was always easy to find in the wintertime. But they were nestled now among so many other stars that he did not remember being there before. Perhaps it was because there was no moon. Or perhaps it was some power of Iarwain's that had drawn them out.

Elurín and Eluréd stood off to the side as Nellas and Iarwain built up the fire until it was tall and bright and roaring hot. Eluréd half-expected Goldberry to come out of her winter sleep to join them, but even a bonfire like this would not be warm enough for the River Daughter this time of year. Finally, Nellas stepped back from the fire and laughed, spinning around in a circle with her arms flung out. She stamped her feet in time to a beat that Iarwain quickly took up, clapping his hands and matching her steps, and together they leaped and spun and twirled around the fire. Nellas began to sing. It was an old song—not as old as Iarwain's, but as old as the Quendi, with words not unlike Sindarin but just far enough removed that Eluréd could not easily understand them. But he understood enough to know that she was singing praises to the stars for their light and their beauty and unending presence.

"Come along, little ones!" Iarwain seized them by the hands and pulled them into the dance. "It is a night for dancing!" The dance was not difficult, but it was hard to keep up with Nellas and old Iarwain. Eluréd grabbed Elurín's hand, and they spun around together, laughing as Nellas sang louder and the sparks flew up from the fire into the sky to join the stars.

And then others came, Elves in furs and skins with bright red pigments painted on their arms and faces melted out of the shadows, crying out greetings to Iarwain and to Nellas and Eluréd and Elurín, who halted to stare at them. Nellas paused to catch her breath. The newcomers spoke in a dialect Eluréd didn't know but which sounded a great deal like the old words Nellas had been singing. After greetings were exchanged and Iarwain disappeared and reappeared with food for the guests, instruments were brought out. There were drums and harps and flutes. The music was loud and fierce and ancient and the dancing began anew. Eluréd and Elurín stepped back away from the fire to watch, enthralled, as the Elves leaped and spun about, stamping their feet in time with the drums. Iarwain, laughing, came to stand beside Elurín.

Midwinter had not been celebrated like this in Doriath. There had been dancing, of course, and maybe some of it had had a hint of wildness in it, but in the safety of Menegroth there were no dancer wielding spears or leaping clear over the fires, and the drums did not sound so fierce. He looked at Elurín, who was watching the scene with eyes shining in the firelight, grinning widely.

The dancing and singing went on all night. At some point Nellas broke away to take Eluréd and Elurín, both of them protesting through yawns, to tuck them into bed. Eluréd curled up against Elurín's side and fell asleep to the steady drumbeats and the sound of many voices singing, and he dreamed of starlight on wide waters, and of many such fires stretched along the shore. He woke feeling refreshed and ready to face the rest of the winter, though he had not known before that he was weary of the cold days and long nights. When he went to the window to peer outside he saw no sign of the visitors from the night before; there was only the circle of still-smoldering embers from the bonfire—and two small shapes beside it. "Elurín," he said, shaking him awake. "Elurín, come outside!" They pulled on their boots and ran out still in their nightshirts over the frosted grass, noses stinging with the cold, to investigate the mysterious shapes.

They were drums, made of hide and adorned with beads along the sides, and each with a stick to pound it with. Elurín picked his up and exclaimed in delight to find beneath it a small wooden flute, perfect for a child's hands. "Thank you!" he called out to the forest. In the distance Eluréd thought he heard laughter in reply.


End file.
